must’ve been a bad weekend for camping…

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    • Markshire PCs:

    Yeah… I went camping too, only my trip was solo and the sole intent was to set lines for big flathead catfish. I have a few outdoorsy type forums I hang out on and through some internet buddies I track down a guy and ask him if I can come with him lining this weekend. Famous last words…

    “Yeah, if the water ain’t too high”

    I call this dude, who lives in EXTREME southeast Kansas. For those of you who don’t know where this is, think of this…

    Drunken hillbilly interbreeding with drunken rednecks… you’ll get the guy I went fishing with.

    I figure hell, I’m pretty “country” myself, I’ll just crack a fat Busch Light and hang with these Kansas boys till it’s time to run the lines…. WRONG.

    Day One, Friday, 11:00 a.m. I head out of Iowa City for the 6 hour trip south to the dudes house, I manage to hit Kansas City during the wonderfull time of rush hour. Road range ensues.

    Day One, Friday, 6:00 p.m. I finally make it to the dudes house…. er…. I mean, trailer. and the banjo music ensues.

    Day One, Friday, 6:05 p.m. I put sharp knife into pocket “just in case” and hesitantly approach door, prepare to knock and a small, red haired man opens the door, says “Heya Muddy!” and slaps a beer into my hand immediately. I think, “this ain’t so bad”, look down and see it’s Natural Light ICE. I shrug, crack it, and take a sip before I even shake the dudes hand. I then walk into the house, turning one last time to look at the light of the sun in case I get thrown into a pit under his trailer. As the night goes on and the Natty Ice goes down I begin to loosen up and also begin to take on an adopted “southern” accent. About a hour before dark this dude says, “Hey mud, let’s go look at some deer!”.

    Disclaimer: Iowa and Kansas are the two best deer hunting states in the country. This dude and myself are nuts for deer hunting. Looking at deer means driving around and scouting.

    Now, I have gone out and “looked at deer” before but this dude has one helluva different approach.

    Step 1: Put 30 pack of Natty Ice into cooler
    Step 2: Ice down the Ice
    Step 3: Bungee cord cooler behind sliding “winder” of truck
    Step 4: Get the koozies, hop in the truck, and get to drinking and driving.

    Needless to say, I was a bit apprehensive, scared, and wishing I had not drank all that coffee before I arrived because yes, I had the jitters and paranoia began to set in.

    Day One, Friday, 7:45 p.m. We are now going down gravel roads faster than I drive on paved roads. Dude is drinking heavily and I begin to pace him because my wife (who works in an Emergency Room) told me that if you’re in an accident it’s best to be relaxed and limp so you don’t break things. I figure, I’d best drink becuase this is one reflex save that I want to fail. Eventually it gets dark and we begn to head back to the house…. er… trailer. Upon arriving at the trailer I meet his dogs. For simplicity I’ll name them Dog1 and Dog2. Dog1 is roughly 9 years old and smells like carrion that’s been baking on a road for 7 days. Dog2 is 15 years old and smells worse. Dog2 is also blind in one eye, can’t hardly walk, and makes me gag from things that I will not say on here. Things get worse when Dog1 and Dog2 insist on rubbing up against me while Dude laughs. I now smell like carrion.

    We eventually retreat inside because the mosquitos in Kansas are larger than most house sparrows. I find out I’m sleeping in his boy’s room. No big deal, but I have to cringe thinking about sleeping in a 16 year old boys room, especially when there are nudie pics on the walls by the bed. I pray for the best and drift off to sleep, partially enhanced by the tepid goodness of Natty Light Ice.

    Stay tuned for the remaining 3 days… it only gets… better.

    • Markshire PCs:


    Rivetting. Please, say on, this is the only thing keeping me going right now. And give us a name or address in case a rescue squad needs to be sent.

    • Markshire PCs:

    heh heh. I lived in Kansas for 5 years, and the locals in SE Kansas scared me… I’d go out riding south of Lawrence and Topeka, and would get stares and vague hostility wherever I went that wasn’t on a 4-lane highway.

    Witchita had the population up in arms when they tried to flouridate the water–“Itza g’ment conspiracy!! Don’ let’em put that shit in our water!!”

    I wanna hear the rest of the story…

    • Markshire PCs:

    If you want to keep me involved, throw in something about idiotic Chiefs fans….or maybe you hunt one down or something about them all thinking Deliverance is a documentary. Say…ask this guy if he’s a Chiefs fan for me ?

    This close to football season hard to get me involved without football referances.

    Speaking of Deliverance….avoid making pig jokes, they are quite sensitive to that. Best send something for the o’ GPS when we have to rescue you from” Deliverance 2 , Muddy’s war “

    • Markshire PCs:

    My boss is a Chef’s fan. (Who’re the Chefs?—Great Googely Moogely!)

    I taunt him endlessly about Vermeil’s crying fits and nancy ways. There’s no crying in FOOTBALL! (One of Hanks’ finer moments)

    But either way, we’re here for ya mudder. And if by chance, ya know, he snuck in on you and snuggled up whilst you slept, it won’t leave this forum. We promise!

    • Markshire PCs:



    foxtrot tango november!!!

    LOL dude, I am so sorry, you have met my relatives!!

    • Markshire PCs:

    Glad I live in southern Michigan, our rednecks are mild here. Kind of like our weather really. Good luck with your adventure. I look forward to an update.

    – mule

    • Markshire PCs:

    Yak never fails to amuse…

    *serious tone* However, there is a note of reason in his mayday.

    FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SACRED RUN MUDDER RUN!!!! NO! Not the LAWNMOWER!!!?? Why, why do the good…

    Nevermind, carry on.

    • Markshire PCs:

    This guy starts giving you long, lingering looks and using the word “supple” in ANY form…get out.

    It’s probably only me but I’m pictureing “D2, Muddy’s war” something like “Red Dawn “crossed with” Rambo” with Muddy hiding out in the woods picking off rednecks, obssessed with vengeance for his shattered innocence. A man who only wanted to do what’s right for the enviroment, a conservationist pushed to the limits of what a man should have to endure. Taken in by the hogs and the wild deer, treated as one of their own….till that fateful day.

    We’ll do the “snuggle scene ” tastefully of course.

    Or maybe it will be like “Poiling Point” in the woods.

    I’ll call Tarantino, dont want this to end up on Lifetime or anything.

    • Markshire PCs:

    Ok, yeah, I’m alive, just been busy with work…

    Day two, Saturday, 7:00 a.m.

    I wake up and am immediately pleased I do not stick to the teenagers sheets, ALWAYS a bonus when sleeping in a strangers house. I walk out and find Dude packing the boat up and already 3 beers down for the morning, he sees me, grins, and hands me a Natty Light. I smile and refuse saying I like to wait till noon before I drink, his answer, and one I’ll remember until the day I die….

    “It’s noon somewhere muddy, make the most of it”

    I sigh and think about another buddy I have here in southern Iowa who says, “You can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning”.

    Amazingly both of these guys are divorced at least once.

    Now, I’ll just skip ahead until about 10 a.m. when Dude is pretty smoked and his buddy Gump shows up. Gump is just that, a gump. He starts drinking heavily as well, but fortunately, he’s the driver. Most of the day involves much drinking until we get to the bait shop. Now, what do you all think of when you think of bait? Small 2 inch minnows? WRONG! We buy $100 worth of 12-14 inch orange carp for bait, Coy to those that are somewhat in the know. Now we’re set to hit the river.

    Day two, Saturday, 5 p.m. We get to the river and put in. We are now in Missouri by the way. Now here’s a funny fact about this river, it is not really a river. The name on the sign over the bridge read “Benton County Drainage Ditch”. I look at Dude and ask if he’s for real, he replies, “Ef yeah, this is the best effin flathead water in this area. I nod dumbly and take a sip of Natty Light (When in Kansas do as the Kansans). The water is the consistancy and color of chocolate milk, I begin to wonder if I should have stayed home as I watch the rushing swirling water. I then wonder if we’ll all survive because heavy drinking does NOT help your ability to swim.

    Day two, Saturday, 5:30 p.m. Boat launched, bait in boat, all stuff loaded up, we take off.

    Day two, Saturday, 6:30 p.m. We finally arrive at section of river Dude wants to fish and are nearly out of gas. We set lines quickly and that is when I look up. Thunderheads… Big black clouds of anger that are boiling in upon themselves as they look down at the 3 idiots in the portable lightning rod.

    Day two, Saturday, 5:35 p.m. Lightning.
    Day two, Saturday, 5:35:45 p.m. THUNDER.

    Day two, Saturday, 5:36 p.m. Dude and Gump simoultaneously scream out…


    Day two, Saturday, 5:36:10 p.m. I immediately close my eyes and wait for death. Not getting any response from mother nature the two dumb$hit$ begin screaming and hollaring as it rains.

    And lightnings…

    And gets WINDY…

    And muddy begins to get scared.

    Forty five minutes later, or so, we pull back to the boat ramp and I scramble out of teh boat and onto land. I look up and see two locals fishing in the monsoon. One guy has a Chiefs sweatshirt and hat on and the other is wearing a Jayhawks sweatshirt and a hat that says “GIT-R-DONE” embroidered into it’s front. Gump and Dude immediately LOVE these guys because, after all, life revolves around the Chiefs and Jayhawks. I don’t say a word about the Hawkeyes and the stomping they’d give the Jayhawks, all I want is dry clothes. Dude decides we’re camping up by the lines so Gump and I get into the truck and begin the backwards way of trying to find the other site we came across. Now, in Missouri, there are no road signs once you get off pavement. In no time flat, we were lost… in the back roads and back forests of MISSOURI.

    Once again, I was scared.

    Day two, Saturday, 9 p.m. We make it back to the campsite and find dude. Things begin to boil down as Gump has to go back to the ramp for something and we have to set the lines. A few hours later we’re still soaking wet, Gump has not returned, but the lines are baited and the camp is sorta, kinda, in a way, up. Gump finally returns and we try to get a fire started.

    *deep breath*

    This is where I finally realized I was in trouble. Wet wood cannot be ignited no matter how hard we try. No kindling, no paper, nothing. I look at them, in their drunken glory, and think. Half smiling I mention the one thing that we have in abundance that is flammable and may also take care of Dude and Gump.

    “We have lots of gasoline”

    I then back off and watch the ensuing fray. Dude grabs a Natty Light can, rips it in half and fills it with gas. He then sets a bunch of wood around it, steps back, and strikes a match….

    Now… I sweat on everything that is holy, this is all true, every damn word of it. I can write some pretty damn good stories but all the events I have described actually happened… and I lived to tell the tale. Now, where was I? Oh yes…

    and strikes a match….

    Nothing happens, a small flame rises from the can and Dude looks at me, bleary eyed. “Gas don’t burn, it’s the fumes. That is called a gas wick and will start that effing wet wood”

    I stare blankly, absolutely AMAZED that this dude is not nearly as dumb as I thought. The fumes burn, dry the wood, and soon enough we have a blaze. Nothing else really happens, we each retire to our respective tents and wait for morning. I’m still amazed that he didn’ blow himself up.

    Day three to follow…. stay tuned.

    B – the Chefs being put into the story is not because I wanted to, it happened. Just coincidence that you mentioned it before I could type it.

    • Markshire PCs:

    *waits with wide eyes and cornbread warmed by the forge for day three stories*

    Absolutely rivetting Mudder. Keep it comin!, I mean…


    • Markshire PCs:

    Muddy, you’re killing me here…

    I once lived on MO for a short bit. It was a scary experience.

    • Markshire PCs:

    *takes a sip of her hot toddy, sitting back in the lazyboy as she reads this*

    Hmmm Kansas? Are you sure? And you volunteered for this escapade?

    *laughs hysterically*

    • Markshire PCs:

    Please tell me this guy is named Earl because the “Story of Earl and Gump and the Conservationist that could” is going to be a great kid’s story…

    Money, big PHAT Money in kid’s books.

    • Markshire PCs:

    My god, this is hilarious. I am glad you didn’t fall into that “river”. You know what is probably in there? This story is way too good to be fiction. By the way camping in the rain sucks. Unless the wood you are using was from a tree on a phosphorus deposit. Then it’s pretty cool. Keep it coming muddy, this stories great.

    – mule

    • Markshire PCs:

    Day three… Sunday, 6:30 a.m.

    Dude and Gump ARISE with no complications from ingesting about 30 beers a piece, I am dumbstruck. Gump is frying hot spicy bratwurst over the fire for breakfast… no buns, no condiments, nothing but Natty Light to dip our brats in….

    did I mention it’s 6:30 in the freaking morning?

    I think to myself, this day is going to be interesting… even more interesting than the previous one.

    We get into the boat, which is mostly full of water from a slow leak. Dude strikes it up and takes off full bore and pulls the plug out of the boat. As we run the boat on plane it drains out the agua. Ingenious, though I already knew this little trick. Next thing he does is start emptying the boat of about 60 cans of beer. Philosophy in this is that some old man needs the redemption money so why not toss them out for him? Now, I am way against this but say nothing, mainly because I don’t want to be stranded or sunk in a river in Missouri. I don’t mention that if some old man wants the redemption money why not toss them out on shore by where we camped?


    We run the lines and they begin drinking heavily, by the time we’re finished we are out of beer… it’s 10 a.m. roughly… on Sunday. Aparrantly it’s not a sin to get sloshed on this holy day. We catch one fish and head back to camp and decide to pick up and go elsewhere. We hop into truck, put boat on trailer, and pull camp. Along the way we pass a gas station… Like hummingbirds to a feeder they are drawn… drawn to the $9.99 special on Natty Light 30 packs that is. I continue to think “what did I get myself into?”

    We ice down the beer and they each grab three… THREE!!??!!

    By the time we get 10 miles down the road they’re both on the third one and I’m getting worried.

    “So”, I ask, “There no rules on open containers in vehicals down here?”

    I get two bleary, bloodshot looks from them.

    I think, “Here it comes… they’re going to kill me.”

    They explode in laughter and crack the third beer and say, practically in unison. “$h*t yeah there’s a law, they’re real buggers about it but we don’t let that ruin our fun!”

    *dramatic pause*

    They then crash their cans together in front of me in toast/tribute to driving with open containers.

    I begin to cry inside.

    Luckily we were not very far to the next campsite but we did have to pull over for pee breaks and the refilling of the koozies. We get to our next area and set up camp. Well, check that, I set up my tent and stuff while these two camels “hydrate” themselves with more beer. By 7 p.m. we’re setting lines again… by now they’re both pretty smoked… to the point that I can actually see eyes drooping and the speech has become slurred to a point that makes a conversation between Brakk and Rok seem downright intelligent.

    I begin to cry on the inside some more… Yes, it is THAT bad.

    Fortunately there are no painted lines on rivers AND swerving the boat is smart so that you miss all the logs, stumps, and snags. We make it back to the ramp from setting the downstream sets and begin to chug upstream. We get around a few corners and we find a honey hole of a spot. Dude mentions something about “flathead heaven” and “sporting wood” in the same sentence…

    Yes… more crying.

    We set the lines and I suddenly realize something VERY important. We drove by a game wardens house when we came into this refuge to fish. We’re legal, but only to fish, not to drink on the river and operate a motor vehicle… and I hear a boat coming from downstream. I casually mention…

    “Do you guys hear that boat? I will bet dollars to pesos that it’s the game warden coming to check us.”

    The flurry of action that comes is insane… Dude and Gump drain their current beers and begin throwing cans anywhere and everywhere they possibly can in case it is teh warden. I am almost certain that shiney silver lining the bank that match the shiney silver cans in the cooler I was sitting on will be a dead give away to our guilt. Now, not only do they face drunken driving charges but also littering on a NATIONAL REFUGE as well. Like a crack addict looking for a fix, I nervously twitch and look all around for somewhere to hide… unfortunately I’m on the middle of a river wtih two drunken idiots who think it’s damn funny they’re about to get a ticket. I frantically stare downstream to see a boat round the corner… with two old men in it. My heart resumes it’s normal beating while Dude and Gump do what any sane fisherman would do…

    They crack another couple beers and we continue on after the boat passes.

    I then hear something that haunted my entire night…

    “Dude, we’re outta beer”

    *blinks* No effing way… I am not sure what the record number of beers in 6 hours is, but these two downed 60 freaking beers in that amount of time. Well now, I”m lying, I had one. My bad. Anyway, the next thing I hear chilled my bones…

    “Dude, think we should get a fifth of Crown tonite?”

    *cardiac arrest*

    Just what these two guys need… half a bottle of canadian whiskey on top of all that high quality beer… all on empty stomachs. I chuckle nervously and mention something about getting the hooks in and baited first and they agree. Now, the funniest thing is about to happen, something that I’ll always remember and always laugh about. We’re chugging upstream and Dude decides he REALLY needs to take a leak. He kneels down on the front of the boat and then turns to me and croaks out

    “Hey mud, if I fall in, tell Gump to shut off the motor”

    Well now, at this very time Mr Murphy must’ve been listening because no sooner than did the urine hit the water, but Gump hit a stump. The next thing I see is a man, holding his wang, flip off the front of the boat and plop headfirst off another submerged log. A million things go through my head at this point.

    1. I just saw his wang… I feel like throwing up.
    2. He didn’t spill his beer… atta boy.
    3. I hope the boat is OK cuz I don’t wanna walk outta here.
    4. OMFG that was some FUNNY shiznit!
    5. Holy crap, he’s gunna get turned into bait!

    “Gump, shut off the motor!!”

    Up comes Dude, spitting water and bleeding from several places. I laugh HYSTERICALLY, and I mean out of control HYSTERICALLY. Dude looks at me and does not look amused at all. Gump slurs out, You okay Dude?

    I continue to laugh.

    At this point I finally notice the glare and shut up a bit, though I still had to ask.

    “That the first time that happen?”

    We finish setting lines and baiting hooks in silence. It was GRAND and no one was in a mood to drink Crown Royal that night. 🙂

    The fourth, and final day… coming up.

    • Markshire PCs:

    FOUR DAYS of this madness? I am a noted sadomasachist and even I would only go in for a weekend. FOUR DAYS!!!

    Well, in football terms, we just hit… BONUS COVERAGE!!! Bring it!

    • Markshire PCs:

    How the heck did he not spill his beer? Man, and all I did was paintball.

    – mule

    • Markshire PCs:

    Ok, I gotta hear the end of this. This is as good as the shit the boys up nord’ used ta pull.

    • Markshire PCs:

    Day 4, Monday 6 a.m.

    I roll over and open my eyes, I figure that if I’m going to get an early run for home I’d best try and wake the boys up. I roll outside and begin dropping things and closing things really hard. Shortly thereafter Dude emerges from his tent, red eyed and limping horribly. I chuckle to myself as I remember him air balling off the front of the boat. We eventually get things rounded up and hit the water around 7 a.m. I crack a mountain dew and whistle a cheery tune while Dude and Gump putter around and look like hammered sh*t. We throw all the crap into the boat and just as we’re about to push off, Dude jumps out and grabs the cooler. All that remains is WARM Natty Light now. He shrugs and says, might taste good by the time this is all over.

    OH MY GOD. Honestly, at what point to you think that drinking before breakfast is a GOOD IDEA?

    We hit the first line, I haul it up, a fish rolls and throws the hook.

    I am immediately PISSED.

    Second line, we get the fish in the boat and don’t catch a single fish the rest of the morning. By the time we get back to the ramp Dude and Gump are each 8 beers into the cooler, each. I shake my head and back the truck and trailer down the ramp. We jet outta there and find some breakfast. Sorry to say that nothign too major happens on the final day, we get back to his house/trailer and I hop in the shower and scrub 4 days of grime off myself. I then practically run out of there, hop in the car, and head home. When I hit Kansas City I saw a beautiful green road sign… it said:

    Des Moines, Left Lane.

    I smiled and hit the accellerator as I thought back over the past weekend. Although I had some entertainment, I realized how lucky I was just to have made it through the weekend without getting into an accident. I also laughed at the amusing things I saw. In Kansas City I saw a long haired dirt head CHASING another long haired dirthead across a 4 lane interstate with a stick. No sh*t, I did. In Missouri I knocked on the mens bathroom and 2 women emerged from it… it was a one stall bathroom also. In Kansas I saw my first living breathing Natty Light embalmed human in Dude. I do not want to go back I do not want to collect my $200. When I hit the state line to Iowa it was as if a dark chapter in my life had now been finished.

    The End.

    • Markshire PCs:

    Thanks for regaling us with your tale, Muddy. I snarfed coffee out my nose at one point… heh heh. :mrgreen:

    • Markshire PCs:

    Yes, it was quite harrowing. Apparently yersch is also caught in a time loop.

    – mule

    • Markshire PCs: Grottle, Gruzk, Ashimar

    *Yanks Yersch free of his time loop and destroys the clone.*

    There you go.

    Yes, Mudster, it has been quite entertaining reading of your harrowing adventure.

    I, myself have nearly choked on a beverage reading of your torturous weekend.

    Er … in Gump speak …

    Gaha … gee, mudder, twas shore funny all them things yuz said ’bout the good ol’ boys from Kansass. Bet yer happier then a bear at a picnic ta be back in dem civilized lands. Course ya get ta hang out just like dem backwoods boys all da time at work. Just need some Natty Light and a couple o’ morons for buds.

    • Markshire PCs:

    *Bumped for your pleasure*

    • Markshire PCs:

    Yes, speaking to SMR we learned he had never seen this, and well, let’s face it, it’s too good to keep buried.

    • Markshire PCs:

    Yeah, it helps to read this post to understand the other ones where we think muddy will end up in a horror movie ( i.e The Gimp), he has a talent for finding this sort of thing. I won’t say there is an informal bet going on about how bad his next venture is and if he survives it ( and who gets his stuff) but I wont say there isnt one either.

    I believe there is a dispute about who called ” frying himself on the electric boat”

    We were all rather surprised he came back from this one (relatively) unharmed except for perhaps his new talent for sleeping very lightly around strange men in flannel and flinching when he hears a zipper or light beer.

    • Markshire PCs:

    …So that’s where the “He said NATTY!” joke came from.

    That’s absolutely priceless, Muddy. And all the more so because you lived to tell the tale. Tip o’ the hat to you, man!


    • Markshire PCs:

    First I live in Missiouri. And for the most part I like it I live next to the Army base here so its not that bad.

    Second I think I know that guy !!!!! You sure he isnt a Contracter out here cause I know some of them that drink like that only it Milwakis Best

    Muddy that was funny as hell I really liked the part where ol boy fell out of the boat Im still laughing!!!!!!!!!!

    • Markshire PCs:

    Not contractors, and these guys don’t live in Misery, down in Kansas. We just drove to Misery to fish.

    • Markshire PCs:


    And I thought Appalachians were bad and now I know why I stopped fishing.

    I just ditto what s-m-r said.

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